


Splish, Splash, Watery Fun

by HanHan_Solo156



Category: Rammstein
Genre: And pure stupidity, Complete crack, Gen, Humor, M/M, POV First Person, Summer, Swimming Pools, Waterpark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:49:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25955503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HanHan_Solo156/pseuds/HanHan_Solo156
Summary: When I’m still enjoying myself in the shallow children’s part of the pool, I start wondering how long we can stay here before we get an eviction. There are several possibilities for that: either I block the line to the waterslide for too long, Till is being arrested walking around naked, or our guitarists make out in public. At least we’d make the journalists of Bild rich.A true Rammstein summer holiday, seen through the eyeglasses of Flake.
Relationships: Richard Kruspe/Paul Landers
Comments: 8
Kudos: 37
Collections: Rammstein - Hot Summer Challenge





	Splish, Splash, Watery Fun

**Author's Note:**

> Challenge time, friends! This time it's a prompt about hot summer. I have no idea why I wrote this, but it just happened. This is complete crack, inspired by [this picture](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/3e/f4/09/3ef409b85d0e351184fdc8a5d79fe443.jpg). I thought at first Till slides there naked and that escalated to this idea. :D
> 
> Enjoy. <3

Never in my life have I enjoyed waterparks and don’t get why people admire them so much. First of all, they are noisy. There isn’t anything wrong with kids having fun during a hot summer day with water activities; just that I prefer having quiet walks somewhere where there isn’t anyone and I can sink into my thoughts. Secondly, people probably don’t even realize how dirty the pools are - if the germs were visible to the naked eye I bet all the waterparks in the world would go bankrupt at once. That’s why we have to use chlorine: the smelly chemical that is impossible to get rid of even though you’d rub yourself for hours after a visit to a swimming pool. Or am I the only one who is bothered by the smell that much?

After this rant, it might come as a surprise for you that right here, right now, I’m actually _in_ a waterpark. But to defend myself, it wasn’t my idea. You see, I happen to be part of a band who voted without my approval that we are going to spend our rare summer holiday together in one. I don’t get why my idea of walking ten kilometers and going to a cat café afterward was rejected. “You have a cat at home, so what’s the point?” one of our guitarists, Richard, had asked. That hadn’t been a surprise though as he is always against everything. “Besides, I’m allergic.” Everyone knew that had been a lie.

I think I must have claimed I was allergic to chlorine - but it wouldn’t have made any difference I’m afraid.

While I’m deep in my pondering, still bitter about not being able to visit a cat café, I hear an awkward cough behind me - it’s our singer, Till. “So, Flake, have you made your decision yet? No pressure, just that people are getting pretty freaking… restless here.”

Sometimes, what we say doesn't make any sense, don’t you agree? Take Till’s sentence, for example: he says there’s no pressure while, in reality, he means _hurry your lanky ass fucking up_.

I look down and swallow. It’s ridiculously hot, yet I’m shivering on the top of a long water slide called “Schwarze Mamba”. I know perfectly well the line behind me is getting longer and longer, but I can’t help it. I don’t know if it’s just me, or are the kids - we are the only adults here - on the line actually grunting: I’m in charge of the situation. What a huge responsibility on my shoulders. If I decide not to move and just stand here, blocking the entry to the narrow completely dark slide, no one can do anything. Maybe we could watch the passing birds the whole day and discuss philosophical topics like is the capability to fly an entry ticket to freedom. Not such a bad option.

Even though how much fun it would be just to be entertained by your own head, I have to reply eventually: “I-I don’t know.” Pretty useless, but at least I said something. It’s stupid though: the only way out is either to go into the slide or wait for the day to end so the line would disappear and I could climb the stairs back to the safety. Though the place is crowded so I guess that’s not an option.

Behind Till, there’s our drummer, Schneider. “Of course, you don’t have to do anything against your will. We can wait the rest of the day if needed.”

A moment of silence. My brain comprehends a bit too slowly the mischievous tone behind my bandmate’s statement when I realize a push in my back.

“Just that we aren’t the guys who would wait the whole day,” Schneider says and only then I realize I’m sent into the abyss called Black Mamba with a choir of manic laughter behind my back. ”Whoopsie-daisy!”

Well, at least I didn’t have to make the decision myself. Screaming my lungs out, during the eternal slide, I think about my life: is this how people who are close to their death feel like? In a black endless tube, wondering was my life worth living for?

I surely don’t know; at least, it has been a wild ride. 

I don’t have a lot of time to comprehend the questions about life and death before with a loud splash, I'm back in the pool again. There is Richard along with the other guitarist Paul throwing a pink inflatable ball to each other. As my entrance hasn't been the quietest possible they obviously notice me and Paul flashes a grin - the same one that hasn’t changed since I first met him in a shady party when after it I realized I just happened to drift off to play in the same band with him.

Until today, I actually haven’t accepted the offer to play together but here we are still.

“Enjoyed the ride?” Paul asks and throws the ball back to Richard, them giggling like two schoolgirls in love. Only a couple of weeks ago, they confessed they are in a relationship. “No shit, Sherlock,” we had said in unison with the others. It’s good they are happy but I can’t help but to be a bit concerned for the upcoming night when we are staying in the same flat - these two lovebirds aren’t afraid to show their affection towards each other.

I grunt something back to Paul and resembling a frog who has lost a limb, I swim towards the shallow side of the pool that is normally reserved for the toddlers. Except for the risk of having pee and poo in the water, I like to be there. No adrenaline rush activities or quick, eager swimmers - just me and my thoughts, not needing to be concerned about drowning. 

Just when I’m out of their way Till and Schneider come down as well, screaming like a tortured cat.

Another splash and two figures are revealed. “Boy, wasn’t that fun!” Schneider exclaims and runs a hand through his wet hair. I bet he is happy he doesn’t have the long curls anymore. “I’m going again!” He disappears as quickly as he had arrived and joins the long line again.

At that moment, I glance around me and realize one thing: we are probably the only ones here who have come as an adult group, not having kids with us. It’s sometimes entertaining to think about what people must think of us. Six middle-aged guys, in a waterpark? Either they are gays or lunatics; probably both.

But during the years doing weird stuff together, I honestly don’t even care anymore what people think of us. If I was concerned I would have changed my company ages ago already.

Till, who almost became a professional swimmer but luckily got saved by music back in the days, swims around a bit, harasses our lovebirds, and then climbs up ladders to get himself a beer.

Just at that moment when he raises and reveals himself in his whole glory - literally - he doesn’t realize something vital is floating in the pool. A woman with two kids in front of him gasps. 

“Mama, wha--” 

“Don’t look!” With her quick maternal instinct, the mom covers the eyes of the curious toddlers who have just gotten a glimpse of one of the most famous dicks in Germany.

Paul swims on the edge of the pool with a bunch of fabric in his hand. “Have you lost something, Tillie?” he asks and whirls the swimming trunks in his hand. Richard behind him loses his shit at the same time and coughs when he swallows water accidentally.

All the hues of red appear on Till’s face when Paul heads back to their mindless ball game. “Es… es tut mir leid,” the singer mumbles and takes the swimming trunks back. I’ve never seen anyone put any piece of clothing on that quickly before.

When he rushes towards the unknown, our bassist Ollie comes to the pool as well. He has been in the gym - I don’t get though who could enjoy exercising inside when it’s +35 degrees already. Not my kind of fun. Well, sports in general are far from my comfort zone.

They almost bump into each other when the lobster-colored Till just passes Ollie. The tall man comes to us and glances behind his back. “What happened? What made Till look like that?”

“Well, he had a bit of an issue with showing his genitals a bit too eagerly,” Paul deadpans and throws the pink ball at Richard’s face - on purpose or not, it’s hard to tell. 

“Ouch, what was that for!” Richard exclaims while Paul only flashes an innocent smile.

Without saying anything, Ollie makes a huge eyeroll and enters the pool. Probably on purpose he swims to the other side of it and blends in with the crowd. Richard and Paul have started snuggling after their mini fight and the families around them have weird looks. Liebe ist für alle da, right? Those two take that a bit too literally.

When I’m still enjoying myself in the shallow children’s part of the pool, I start wondering how long we can stay here before we get an eviction. There are several possibilities for that: either I block the line to the waterslide for too long, Till is being arrested walking around naked, or our guitarists make out in public. At least we’d make the journalists of Bild rich.

But more than anything I think I need to get drunk now.

~***~

It’s evening already, but unfortunately, I didn’t get drunk. Well, at least I got out of the pool and have moved my bony ass to the side of a tennis court. And before you start questioning whether my hatred towards sports suddenly changed, it’s not me who is playing. Instead, we have been looking at our guitarists playing tennis - or more so, them arguing constantly.

“Hey, you cheated!” Richard exclaims once again. “You ‘lil piece of shit, give me the fucking ball!”

Paul laughs in a manic manner. He takes steps forward to the net and wiggles the ball in his hand right in front of his partner. “Come and get it then like a good puppy,” he says with a husky voice so full of smutness it makes me sick.

They start chasing each other and I have no idea how this will end up.

Next to me on a deck chair lies Till who has been unusually quiet the whole day. Maybe the disappearance of his swimming wear still bothers him. Schneider has fallen asleep and is taking all the sunlight he can. Ollie has disappeared - the last time I saw him was in the pool.

A led sign on the wall still says +33 degrees. It makes me wonder: has anyone ever tested the melting point of homo sapiens? 

~***~

“Entschuldigung meine Herren, but the air conditioning of your room stopped working,” the lady in the reception of the hotel says. “We don’t know what happened, but we are working on the issue.”

It’s still +30 and we are supposed to sleep in the same set of rooms. 

“Okay, would it be possible to fix it tonight?” Till tries to ask.

The receptionist shakes her head and frowns, busy looking at her computer. “I’m afraid not. The maintenance company is already closed for today.” She raises her head and forces a cheerful expression - probably the first thing they teach you in the hotel staff school - on her face when she says: “But as our apology, we’ll give you free ice creams!”

Schneider and Till look at each other, silently debating what we should do next. 

“Well, that’s something,” I state and took my luggage. I don’t know about them but at least I need my sleep now - and my free ice cream.

We have no other choice than to go to the room. Once we step in we are welcomed by a climate that reminds me of Berlin Botanische Garten. Not very ideal for six tired guys.

“Oh, how fucking great!” Richard, loyal to his own style, complains and throws his shirt off immediately. Demonstratively, he sits on the sofa and lights up a cigarette. Of course, behind him on the wall is a “Rauchen verboten” sign. “How are we supposed to sleep here, huh?” he asks and inhales a lungful of smoke.

“Love, don’t you complain. Look at the positive side: At least we got free ice cream,” Paul tries to console and sits on the sofa as well. He starts caressing Richard’s thigh and whispers something to his ear that makes him grin - and, if I saw correctly, Paul nibbles his earlobe as well.

The rest of us try to ignore what we just saw. I’m not religious but I silently thank our Lord in Heaven the guitarists have their own room.

On a table in the middle of the living room is a bottle of pink champagne and a look in the minibar reveals it: we, indeed, got our free ice creams.

Till takes a strawberry cone in his huge hand. “I thought this would have been at least a jumbo-sized one.”

That surely is the biggest disappointment of the day.

In silence, we eat your goodies and go to sleep after a long day.

But, of course, a botanical garden wasn’t made for sleeping. I shift on my mattress, almost glued to it from sweat.

 _Sigh_. Maybe I go to the kitchen and read a book or have a wank; maybe both at the same time. I don’t know, but at least I can’t stand the heat anymore.

Just when I’m about to enter the dark kitchen, I stop by the door. The silent murmuring of two guys isn’t promising any good. I swallow, but my curiosity has won me over so I can’t back up anymore.

“Don’t you agree it’s quite… hot tonight?” Paul asks and flicks his tongue. “Do you need my… help in anything?” 

Richard lets out a giggly sound a 53-year-old man shouldn’t be able to produce. “Maybe a bit. What are you suggesting, mein Paulchen?”

“It’s a secret still,” ”Paulchen” says and lowers his voice. “Just between you and me: I’d prefer you without any unnecessary fabric covering the _perfection_.”

A desperate yelp from Richard echoes in the room. My stomach is sick: and not just because of the expired ice cream I ate earlier. I know where this might be leading but frozen to my place, I’m unable to do anything. _Flake, do something. Now. Before it’s too late. You’re our only hope._

Gathering my self-confidence I decide to be the hero of the day. I will be thanked later. I quickly turn around, fumble my hand on the light switch, and then…

The two of them look at me, pure terror in their eyes as the light reveals everything. Paul is sitting on Richard’s lap topless, the zipper of his shorts open. Even though I don’t want to admit it, there’s an obvious bulk there, screaming to be freed from its agony. 

“Flake, what the fuck do you think you are doing?” Paul asks and rubs his eyes, his former sweet tone now gone. Richard clutches on him like in those pictures where the baby monkey is seeking comfort from its mom. “For Christ’s sake, is there any kind of privacy in this madhouse anymore?!”

“S-sorry, it’s just so hot I couldn’t sleep and wanted to make some tea for myself or… something.” What a lousy excuse, but I don’t care.

Paul snorts and leaves Richard’s lap. Demonstratively, he takes his shirt, thrown to the floor during their passionate nightly activities, and rushes past me.

“I hate you,” he hisses before the door of his and Richard’s room slams. Call me a simple man, but if they wanted privacy so much, why on earth were they making out in the kitchen in the first place? It’s not my fault.

Richard clears his throat. He tidies up his shirt that was on its way to be ruthlessly ripped away from his torso. 

On this hot night, I don’t even want anything that would make me hotter, but I still put the kettle on.

”So, how’s your day been?” I ask Richard but instead of answering, he grunts and follows his dear Paul who is now probably sulking for their stupid keyboardist ruining their night.

I don’t understand why everyone’s been like that today. Maybe it’s the heat, I wonder, when I pour hot water into my cup.

The fact still hasn’t changed: I don’t like waterparks. Next time, I’ll go to the damn cat café.

_Alone._


End file.
